Flu season

Good batteries make good neighbors

We all know how smoke detectors start beeping when the battery needs to be changed, right?

A couple of weeks ago Susan and I were awakened about 3:45 AM by one of those faint but persistent beeps that we recognized as a call for a new battery.  I got up to see which smoke detector it was.

Not the one in our bedroom – it would have been louder.  Not the one in the skylight hall, nor in the downstairs hall.  Lauren and a friend were sleeping downstairs, and the problem definitely wasn’t in her room.  I didn’t want to go into Zack’s room and risk waking him, so I checked the other ones again.

It’s not a quick process.  The interval between beeps is at least one minute, and it seems much longer when just roused from that all-important deep sleep.  Beep.  Nope.  Sounds like it’s upstairs.  Pause.  Hold on.  Wait for it.  A little longer.  Beep.  Not that one.  I’m sure it’s not our bedroom, but it’s coming from that direction.  Wait.  Wait some more.  More.  Beep.

I’d already pressed my ear against Zack’s door and it didn’t seem to be coming from in there.  I opened the door very quietly and went in – just to be sure.  “It sounds like it’s outside, Dad.”  We waited and listened again.  Beep.  Not in here.  “Sorry, Bud.  We’ll find it.”

Of course no one’s going to have a smoke detector outside; that’s ridiculous.  But Susan and I had checked and rechecked all of our detectors for the last 20 minutes and found nothing. I opened the front door and listened.  It was pouring rain.

Beep.  A little louder this time.  I walked around the side of the house outside of Zack’s room, and what to my wandering eyes should appear but a smoke detector on a rail of the neighbor’s porch.  His lights were on – apparently another victim of Midnight Battery Failure (MBF).  Oh, I get it.  He took care of his problem by putting it outside.

I picked up the unit and tried to open it to remove the battery.  No can do.  BEEP - much louder now.  Man, it’s wet out here.  Not gonna bring that thing into the house to solve the problem right now.  I stuck the detector in the back seat of my car under some cloth grocery bags.  That’s enough of that.

Went back to bed and dreamed of kicking my neighbor’s butt the next time I’d see him.

Fathers Day

Happy Fathers Day to all of you other manly men:

Caring for your introvert

For those of us who are married to or otherwise closely associated with an introvert, here’s a good article from the March 2003 issue of The Atlantic.  I laughed out loud.

Close to home

Our friend Andrea sent this along…

from The New Yorker, Feb 23, 2009

Space between the ears

Zack (13) and I were in the kitchen when I noticed him reaching into the bottle of vitamins – again.

“Didn’t you just have some of those a few minutes ago?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Zack replied, replacing the top on the bottle.  He flashed me a slightly sheepish grin.

“Won’t it be nice when your brain starts working again?”

“Yep.”

“Do you miss it?” I wondered.

“Nope.”

Behold, my son the foodie

The kids’ youth group is doing a 30-hour ‘famine’ this weekend as an opportunity to experience a little bit of what it’s like to go without food, and to raise money to help feed some hungry kids.  Both Lauren and Zack have been very interested in being a part of this event.  When Zack was hit by the flu that ravaged our household this week, his first response was disappointment that he might have to miss ‘the fast.’  I love that in a 13 year-old.

* * * * * * * * * *

While he was sick (and I was recuperating), Zack spent a fair amount of the day tucked into bed upstairs and I was working on stuff downstairs.  We were keeping in touch via text messaging.  Here’s one of the threads:

Z:  Hot Cheetos sound good to you right now?

(I went up to his room and he asked if I would make him a grilled cheese sandwich.  I said I would.)

Z:  Thanketh thou.

Me:  Thou art welcome!

Me:  Behold, I perceive that thy health improveth somewhat.  But be not deceived into thinking that thou art well enough to attend The Fast, even though thy heart yearns mightily to do so.  Thy grilled cheese sandwich shall be with thee presently.

Z:  Thanketh thou…  I do not feel well enough to attend the fast.

Me:  Verily, thou hast spoken wisely, my son.

Z:  I accept thy praise, father.

Z:  When is Easter?

Me:  April 12.

Z:  OK – so like in 2 weeks?

Z:  Honey-glazed prawns.  Hong Kong crispy noodles and roasted duck from Lee’s Asian Restaurant.  My friend recommended them to me.

Me:  Mr Chow Hound!

Z:  I always end  up talking about food… it’s funny.

Z:  They also recommended that place Cactus on Alki.

Z:  Excellent sandwich!

Me:  OK Bubba – I have to get some work done.  You are too much!

Where was this when we needed it?

It’s been a long wait, but Baby Boomers can finally get the help we needed to understand Joe Cocker when we  – at least in our hearts – attended Woodstock. (Thanks again, Steve.)

Don’t do it

Hey men, check out these musically-enhanced tips and avoid some common pitfalls in marriage.  (Thanks, Steve!)

Where’s a proofreader?!?

In today’s obituaries I happened to note the following:

“He scummed at 12:30 p.m. after a short battle with cancer…”

Perhaps there’s some new shorthand out there, but I’m thinkin’ that at the end of this poor guy’s life he “succumbed” rather than “scummed.”